


Partners and Friends

by koalathebear



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/pseuds/koalathebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before and during <i>The Man in the Morgue</i> because the shippiness made my heart implode.  Booth is such a Big Damned Hero.  Gotta love a show where the ship is more compelling than voodoo, murder and unidentified remains.  :P  This is written in Evil Evil <i>Evil</i> Third Person Present Tense but it didn't work any other way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partners and Friends

There's so much blood. It seems to be everywhere. Even though Temperance has never been frightened of or squeamish at the sight of blood, seeing so much of her own blood stuns her. It's drying on her face stickily. It's on her hands. It encrusts her torn clothing. The room looks like a scene from of a horror movie.

Although there is pain throughout her entire body, it's concentrated in her skull, her arm, her hand - her ear …. She puts her hand up to her ear lobe and winces as she realises that it is torn and leaking blood sluggishly.

Clambering with great difficulty to her feet, she stares at her face in the mirror and sees more blood. Sudden flashes of memory make her flinch. Chaotic, disturbing images form in her mind and then vanish again before she can identify and catalogue them.

The phone rings and she staggers across the room to answer it, picking up the handset gingerly, wincing from the pain in her body. She keeps the pain and impending nausea in check as she struggles to hear the voice that repeats itself patiently.

"Dr Brennan, your airport shuttle is here," the polite voice tells her.

"What? No um . my flight isn't until Thursday," Brennan contradicts her.

"Today _is_ Thursday Dr Brennan."

Brennan stares at the phone blindly after she hangs up. Her cell phone makes a blipping sound to tell her she has missed calls or unread text messages.

With difficulty she fumbles at the phone. Nine missed calls. Two of them are from the lab regarding some John Doe numbered 361. One from Goodman. Six of them are from Booth.

 _"Bones, it's Booth, you're back in DC tomorrow. Sheesh. Nice idea of a vacation you have there. Anyway, want me to pick you up at the airport? I've lined up an interview with the suspect if you're interested and we can talk in the car on the way over. Call me."_

She winces and struggles to hold the phone against her ear to listen to Booth's next message.

 _"Bones! Angela, Zach and Hodgins haven't heard from you in over a day. What's up with you? Call me."_

Brennan listens to the remaining four messages, hearing the increasing anxiety in Booth's voice with each message. Two text messages are from him as well. She wants to call him but the world is spinning and the blood drying on her face, hands and body make her wonder what the hell is happening.

What happened to Wednesday?

The throb in her head worsens and a rising panic wars with the pain. Finally she picks up the phone and using her left hand, she hits the speed dial.

Booth picks up on the first ring. His voice is urgent and very anxious. "Bones it's about damned time – what's going on? I was about to fly down and find out for myself. Where are you?"

"New Orleans …" she says, looking about the room as if it will somehow jog her memory.

" _What?_ " The loudness of Booth's voice makes her flinch. "You should be on your way to the airport if you want to make the flight back to DC …" Suddenly his voice changes. "What's wrong?"

"I ... I don't know …" she tells him falteringly. She puts a hand to her forehead and hisses involuntarily at the sting that shoots through her arm. Pushing aside the pain she tries to assess her own injuries clinically. The arm is probably fractured which would explain the pain and the impaired mobility.

"Bones – talk to me." She can almost see Booth's face, staring at her fiercely and the thought is oddly comforting.

"I've lost a day …. I woke up this morning on the floor of the bathroom. Booth I'm covered in blood, I think I'm concussed. Something's happened – I can't remember anything that happened on Wednesday. You're going to have to reschedule that interview - whatever it's about."

"Forget the interview. I'm on my way. You get medical treatment immediately, see the police and wait for me," Booth orders her.

"There's no need. Don’t come out …." she trails off when she realises that Booth has already hung up.

***

Detective Harding appears sceptical, but Brennan barely notices the New Orleans detective with her cynical face and dark wavy hair. She's too busy assessing the available data, struggling to piece together what has happened to her.

There's the sound of an altercation outside the door. It swings open with a clatter.

"Sir, you can't go in there!"

"Bones, you ok?"

Brennan looks up at the sound of the familiar voice. "Booth – I told you not to come," she tells him, even as she feels relief flooding through her. Just seeing his worried face calms her down and brings her comfort even as her calm face remains impassive.

She doesn't even bother to ask him how he knew how to find her. This is Booth, after all. Everything's going to be all right.


End file.
